


put on your war paint

by facingthenorthwind (spacegandalf)



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, M/M, Multi, Netrophil - Freeform, Pre-Apocalypse, Rajit also present by omission, Terrorism, Zombies Run Secret Santa 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:39:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegandalf/pseuds/facingthenorthwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>We are Netrophil. You cannot stop us. You cannot find us. We are just like you.</i>
</p>
<p>There have been rumours of Pandora Haze, a technology company working with the government, creating a way to control humans. There have been rumours of suspicious tests in genetics laboratories all over the country. There have been death threats and bombings and fires and, once or twice, a few mostly-accidental murders. Netrophil is the group responsible. Unfortunately, it mostly consists of university students who don't understand the dangers. This is the story of how Janine attempts to lead a cell of revolutionaries who are, let's be honest, more interested in whether she's having sex with Sara Smith than the destruction of humanity.</p>
<p>Or, the one where all your faves are part of Netrophil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	put on your war paint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarsandSapphires](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsandSapphires/gifts).



> a mix to accompany this fic can be found [here](http://www.8tracks.com/dropbear/put-on-your-warpaint).
> 
> many thanks to raggedybearcat/zoe, who read through all my planning and snippets of fic, and to zalia, who held my hand through the whole thing, basically. also to crownleys who fixed all my taversen uni problems at 3am. the actual scientists that helped me out with the taversen attack were treehugger and sciatrix/writingfromfactorx, many thanks to them. andrea beta'd this and she is a saint. for a secret santa, this....wasn't very secret. it takes a village to get me to write 11k, okay?
> 
> emily, i'm so sorry this is actually a maxine/paula fic masquerading as ensemblefic. i had the best of intentions...
> 
> content warning for use of the word d*ke, but maxine uses it to describe herself.

Organising revolutionaries was like herding cats.  
  
That was the conclusion Janine de Luca had come to, anyway. It didn’t help that half her cell were university students. There were other cells around the country, she knew it, and she hoped the movement would grow until the government took notice, until they destroyed the threat to the entire human race, until— but no, first she had to start the bloody meeting.  
  
“Order! Come on, everyone,” she said, and the room gradually quietened down. “If we’re all done with our _thrilling_ conversations, we can begin. As I’m sure you all know, the Bolker University action was a success. It’s been all over the news — three men in critical condition, though we should hope they don’t get any worse, and significant fire damage to the facility. Does anyone who was involved want to add anything?”  
  
Sara, who was sitting next to Janine ( _too_ close? only if you believed the rumours — and, perhaps, the mysterious hickeys), raised her hand to be level with her face before speaking. “The papers have been saying Netrophil’s involved. We left our calling card at the scene — thanks, Simon, for finding that spray paint on short notice — and now that the word’s out people will start to get curious.”  
  
“I can tell people on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/fake_netrophil) to organise their own cells,” Jack suggested. “We need more, especially down south.”  
  
“Good idea,” Janine said. Jack was only in charge of the twitter account because he claimed he’d done social media work for nightclubs to pay the bills — and even though she had to periodically delete all the puns he tweeted, she couldn’t deny they had more followers now. He wasn’t entirely useless.  
  
Sara nodded her agreement and said, “This might turn the tide, so we should get ready for that. I think this might be the beginning of our victory.”  
  
“Well, now you’ve jinxed it!” said Sam from the back of the room. “You can’t just _say_ things like that, Sara.”  
  
“I’m stating it how it is, Sam. Things are going to change and we can’t be caught unawares. We can’t just play at being revolutionaries part-time, a distraction from how poorly we’re doing in our engineering degrees.” At this Sam visibly winced, but Sara kept talking. “Childish superstitions have no place here.”  
  
“Fine, fine,” Simon said, glancing at Sam. “We get it, things will change, but in the short-term, are we going to do anything different? We’re still going to smash up some labs, right?”  
  
“We still have some facilities to target, yes,” Janine said. “Taversen University is the most obvious one, but there may be others worth investigating. You might be able to help there, Dr. Myers — have you booked in for that conference Dr. Cohen is attending?”  
  
Maxine looked up from the scrap of paper she’d been scribbling on and nodded. “Yes, it starts on Monday. I’ve asked around and Dr. Cohen is well-liked by everyone I’ve talked to, which means it shouldn’t be difficult to get into her good books. I haven’t been able to determine how free she is with information, though. The conference itself might be useful, too — I’ve been continuing my research on the side, and there are some really interesting findings with —“ she cut herself off, folding the piece of paper in her hands into smaller and smaller pieces. “Anyway, it should be a productive three days, whatever it holds. Dr. Cohen works directly under Professor Van Ark, who has ties with Pandora Haze.”  
  
“Good. Email your findings as soon as you can, since you won’t be able to travel back here every night from Brighton.”  
  
“She gets to go to Brighton?” Jack said, huffing loudly. “Why aren’t I ever sent to Brighton on Netrophil business?”  
  
“Because you don’t have a medical degree,” Janine said. “Unless you’ve been hiding some spectacular qualifications from us."  
  
Jack slumped back in his chair, and Janine resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Right, we’ll be meeting here again same time on Monday. Is there anyone who can’t come apart from Dr. Myers?”  
  
“I can’t,” Sam said, looking down at the table and picking at his fingernails. “Got exams, and Dad’ll have my head if I don’t pass them.”  
  
“I’ll be here,” Jack said, grinning. “Art history exams aren’t real exams anyway. I’ll be able to bullshit them no worries.”  
  
Janine looked expectantly at Simon, who stared back with one eyebrow raised. “I don’t have exams, Jenny.” She considered pursuing that line of inquiry (what degree _did_ Simon do? did he do a degree at all?), but the smile playing on Simon’s lips told her she would get nowhere.  
  
“Fine. Please, don’t invite Rajit. I don’t know how he keeps getting word of when our meetings are, but someone must be telling him.” Everyone nodded, and as they all filed out, Janine sat down with a sigh. _Herding cats._

* * *

  
Maxine kept forgetting she was at the conference for Netrophil business. Well, she’d actually got her work to pay for it, so she was there on work business too, but some of the seminars were so fascinating she got caught up in the possibilities of further research instead of finding Dr. Cohen. She’d seen a picture of her when she Googled her, blue eyes and a veritable mane of bushy blonde hair. She had a Wikipedia page, but it was only a stub: a birthdate, a list of publications, her current work information. Maxine had discovered from her internet stalking that Dr. Paula Cohen was four years older than she was, a fantastic scientist, and very, very attractive. But no. She was not here to flirt. She was here to get information. And if that information-getting involved a little flirting, well, Simon would be proud of her.  
  
Okay, no, she deleted that last thought. She never wanted to do something Simon would be proud of.  
  
Several presentations and a trip back to her room to put on high heels later, she was clutching her free glass of house wine (it was not as bad as she was expecting, but the next drink would definitely be something better. Or beer.) and scanning the room for Dr. Paula Unfairly-Attractive Cohen. Dr. Cohen had presented a paper on the carcinogenic effect of some shade of paint called ‘crucible carmine’ in rats; Maxine hadn’t paid as much attention as she should have because Dr. Cohen was much prettier in person than she was in the standard portrait photo off the internet. She had managed to pay enough attention to know that it was the same brand of paint she used to paint figurines at home, though, so she’d written a note in the margin of her notepad to throw away the crucible carmine if she had any.  
  
At last she saw her — well, her hair — across the room, and meandered her way through the clusters of people until she was standing behind her. Breathe. She could do this. Whoever Dr. Cohen was talking to ducked away to find some more alcohol and Maxine stepped in, glancing down at her name tag before introducing herself.  
  
“Hi, I’m Maxine Myers, I was at your presentation on the carcinogenic paint this morning. I, uh—” She had to say something intelligent, not ‘I didn’t catch all the details because you’re really hot’. Quickly. “I was wondering what got you into investigating that in particular? Before the conference I’d read about some of your work and it sounded like you were working on—“ _mind-control_ “—advancements in treatment for degenerative human diseases.”  
  
Paula smiled as she took a sip of her own wine and then she blushed a little, as if she wasn’t pretty enough already. Why did Maxine have to spy on _this_ geneticist? This was entirely unfair. “I use that kind of paint at home, actually, to paint some figurines in my non-existent spare time, and it was sort of…it was a distraction from the other stuff we were doing. Besides, there is definitely not enough regulation with paints and I don’t plan on dying any time soon, especially from something totally preventable like that.”  
  
“What kind of figurines?” That was totally the wrong question to ask, Maxine knew. The right question would be to push her on why her normal research was something she needed a break from — was it because she has a conscience?   
  
Paula blushed even more and Maxine took a large gulp of wine to deal with this development. Next time she would send Jack on the spying-on-hot-lady-scientist mission. At least he wouldn’t get distracted by how soft her lips looked or how that smattering of freckles across her nose was the most adorable thing she’d seen since the cat video a colleague had linked her last week.   
  
“I—they’re Demons and Darkness figurines,” Paula said, leaning in closer as if she were imparting a secret. Maxine was glad she’d already swallowed her mouthful of wine, because she would have done something embarrassing.  
  
“Seriously? Are you excited for the new module? I know it’s already out in the States, but I can’t find it in any of the stores here.”  
  
Paula’s face _lit up_ , and Maxine fell a little bit in love. A lot in love. Maxine was in love. “The Evening of the Shambling Ones? I’m so excited. I’m so glad you play too, I thought you were going to laugh at me.”  
  
“Never! We should play some time — where are you based? I’m up in Derbyshire. I work at St. Clare’s, though I do some research on the side when I can manage it.”  
  
“I move around a bit, wherever the higher-ups want to send me, but I’m currently in Sheffield, so it’s definitely possible! I haven’t been able to find a group of people to play with since I moved, so I’d love that."  
  
“It’s a date, then,” Maxine said, grinning until she realised what she said. “I mean, I—“  
  
“A date,” Paula repeated, and something curled in the bottom of Maxine’s stomach.

* * *

  
Maxine _had_ got around to asking Paula more pertinent questions eventually. She’d asked why Paula had needed to take a break from her usual research, though Paula had only looked guilty and said she couldn’t say. After two more gin and tonics, she had said that the research she was focused on had been the sole goal of the team for years, and the possibilities were just _overwhelming_. She wouldn’t say anything else, and Maxine had left without any real information, but she did have an offer to meet Paula at the hotel bar the next night after dinner, which she accepted because that was why she was here. She also genuinely wanted to see her again (and kiss her, and watch her eyes light up as she talked about cosplaying, and slip a hand underneath her shirt and see if she had freckles in all sorts of places). That was going to be a problem, she knew, but she had no choice but to meet her at the bar.   
  
"Paula, you look lovely," Maxine said in greeting when she got there, momentarily taken aback by just how stunning Paula's black dress looked. Maxine hadn't bothered to change out of the blouse and skirt she’d been wearing throughout the day and she suddenly felt underdressed.   
  
Paula blushed and grinned, looking away for a moment before thanking her.   
  
They made small talk about the conference for a while, getting steadily more tipsy until Maxine got up the courage to ask her about her job again. "I think I read somewhere you work for Van Ark, is that right? The name rang a bell because he was in the news a few weeks back, something about possible tax fraud, if memory serves."  
  
"I do work for him. The tax stuff was all a misunderstanding, though. He's...a difficult boss, but he gets results."  
  
"Difficult how?"   
  
"Well, he has anger issues as well as the standard expectation that we do nothing except the job — I'm sure you've met plenty of the sort. I don't even know how much he really does, since he seems to be in a more managerial role. He's certainly not produced any research for VS-72." As soon as she said that, Paula paled, putting down her drink. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. These drinks must be stronger than I thought."  
  
"Don't worry about it," Maxine said, her pulse speeding up. She was finally getting somewhere, though she'd need a hell of a lot more than just the name VS-72 to find out useful details. "So your boss is a dick. I used to have one that would demand research constantly but she’d never read it — it would just keep piling up on her desk. Utterly useless woman. The tax fraud thing, though, what was that all about, do you know? I know to said it was a misunderstanding, but something must have prompted it. The article I read about it — I think it was an article — mentioned Pandora Haze, too. I don't see what a genetics facility and a games manufacturer have in common. Don’t Pandora Haze make kids toys?"  
  
“They do other things too. Those advanced burn patches that came on the market a few years ago — I’m sure you’ve seen plenty — they were the work of Pandora Haze. I’m not sure why a company would do ground-breaking scientific research _and_ sell Furbies, but I’m not the one calling the shots there. Just a lowly researcher.”  
  
“Wait, you work for Pandora Haze?” This was making less and less sense the more Maxine learnt, and she suspected she should have stopped drinking several glasses ago.  
  
“I split my time between Pandora Haze and some other genetic research. My old job was heavily funded by the government, so when a position opened up in Pandora Haze they contacted me, and…well, Pandora Haze pays a hell of a lot better.”  
  
“What are you working on at Pandora Haze?”  
  
“I…Maxine, I’m sorry, I can’t say. It’s classified. You know how the government is. All I can say is that it’s something that’s never been done before, and I really think we’re going to do something _amazing_. We’ve just finished up testing with rats and we might even be able to go on to human trials soon, and it’s exciting but it’s also terrifying because—“ she stopped as if suddenly out of breath, and drank half her gin and tonic in one go. “Don’t make me talk about it, Maxine, please.”  
  
Maxine knew she should push it because what she had at the moment didn’t make sense, but Paula suddenly looked tired and a little afraid, so she didn’t. “I’ll buy you another drink,” she said instead. “I’ve been eyeing those garishly-coloured cocktail teapots. Which one takes your fancy?”  
  
The teapots were awfully good. They ended up sharing a Fruit Tingle, which tasted like a sweet Maxine couldn’t quite place. Careful about not upsetting Paula again, the conversation turned to lighter subjects — how the presenter at that morning’s seminar had managed to button up his shirt incorrectly, the way the London scientists all seemed to think that nothing could ever happen outside of their precious city, and how inappropriate the conversations so often were when they were served lunch. Usually, talking about dissections would put a person off their food, but in a room full of scientists, nobody had a filter.  
  
Maxine didn’t notice the hour go past, but the bar emptied slowly and Paula put her drink down, licking her lips and saying, “I think…I think I am a bit too drunk considering we still have one last day of the conference tomorrow. Time for bed.”  
  
“I’ll take you back to your room, then,” Maxine said. She held her liquor better, being taller and slightly stockier than Paula, and she’d stopped drinking so much when she remember that she needed to be sober enough to remember all the information about Pandora Haze.  
  
“Thanks,” Paula said, wobbling slightly as she stood up. Maxine took the hand Paula had put out in front of her to steady herself, and her face flooded with heat. It was like she was a teenage girl all over again.  
  
She was far too grateful for Paula’s inebriation because it meant that she got to be a lot closer to her than strictly necessary as they walked from the bar up to Paula’s hotel room on the fifth floor. Maxine was hyperaware of everywhere their bodies were touching, and the way Paula let out a little giggle as she tripped over a step made her want to back her up against the wall of the corridor and kiss her until the sun rose. She didn’t, though, because she wasn’t meant to get involved — that was not the plan. It wasn’t expressly forbidden because it had never come up, but Maxine knew that betraying Paula would get so much more difficult once she’d kissed her.   
  
They finally reached room 572 and Paula fumbled in her bag for her keycard. Taking it out triumphantly, she looked at Maxine, her cheeks pink from the alcohol and her eyes bright. “I—“ she said, but she stopped and licked her lips, as if pausing to work out what she wanted to say. “Thanks for seeing me to my room. This was so much fun, more fun than the actual conference. I mean, not that the conference isn’t— but—“ She gave up on words and kissed Maxine instead.   
  
Despite her brain telling her this was a Very Bad Idea, Maxine kissed her back, wrapping her arms around Paula’s neck and exploring her mouth with her tongue. Paula tasted like the sugary cocktails they’d been drinking and even though the kiss wasn’t perfect — they were both pretty drunk and coordination was not something either of them were good at at that moment — Maxine didn’t want to stop. She would be happy just kissing Paula in the corridor forever, not caring if anyone saw them.  
  
Paula was the one who pulled away, her lips swollen and red. “I should— we should both get to bed,” she said, though she looked disappointed. “I have an early start, I’m meant to be assisting someone with their presentation, and— tomorrow, though? There’s that final night disco, and alcohol will be free. Don’t get your hopes up about anything else, though. If we get the same DJ as last time, he’ll be terrible. Some guy called…Phil, I think? He did a bloody plug at the end, trying to get us to hire him for ‘conferences, weddings and anything else you might want some expert in charge of the music for’. I wouldn’t put him in charge of anything. Anyway, we could take the free alcohol and nick off, how does that sound?”  
  
“Well, I can’t pass up free alcohol, can I?” Maxine said. She was disappointed it had to end there, but Paula was right: they both had to be able to function tomorrow. “I’ll see you then.” She couldn’t resist a quick peck on the lips before Paula unlocked her door and waved goodbye.  
  
She stood in front of 572, alternately touching her lips with her fingers and resisting the urge to swear, until the strip of light under Paula’s door disappeared.

* * *

  
Netrophil met in the back room of a pub, so often the university contingent would arrive before the others. It was a shady enough pub not to pry into the cell's business, but not shady enough to be a hotbed of criminal activity and unsavoury types, both of which were important. The only downside, Jack thought as he dropped his bag on the floor and took a seat, was that it had crap beer.   
  
Sam and Simon were already nursing a pint each and Jack sat down next to Simon, clapping him on the back. “God I'm glad exams are done," he said, stretching his arms in the air. "Farrier set us three essays in one sitting. I'm not sure my hand will ever work the same way again."  
  
"You'll have to get a boyfriend then," Simon said.   
  
"Or I could just have you. You've not got a secret lover at the minute, do you?"  
  
"Nah, Maureen decided I didn't love her enough. She was a bloody good shag, though. And I liked her well enough.”  
  
“Well then, if you’re up for it, there’s no need for me to find a boyfriend too quickly, is there?” Turning to Sam, he said, "How'd your exams go, Sam? You must be all done if you're here."  
  
In response, Sam took a very large gulp of his beer, and Jack got the gist. "Don't worry, I'm sure you went fine. Besides, you don't actually have to tell your dad how you went — there's no way he could find out, so just tell him you passed everything. Works fine with my ma."  
  
"I couldn't — but I'll have to repeat the subjects, and he'll _know._ "  
  
"Then don't tell him what subjects you're doing! Have some self-preservation instinct, mate."  
  
Sam just shrugged miserably in lieu of an answer, and Jack sighed.   
  
"Where is everyone?" he said, having a mouthful of beer. "Are they off doing their real-world jobs, you reckon?"  
  
"Chris has a late class on Wednesdays," Sam said. "Not sure where Sara and Janine are, though. They're not late yet."  
  
"I bet Sara's off doing something super secret," Jack said. "Something where she can put those terrifying martial arts skills to use. Or maybe knives. She strikes me as the kind of person who has a knife in her boot and knows how to use it."  
  
"When we went to Bolker she brought her own gun," Simon said. "I wonder how she got a licence for it."  
  
"She could not have a licence," Jack pointed out. "Or maybe she's, like, MI5."  
  
"If she were MI5, why would she be in Netrophil? Why would Janine trust her so much?" Sam asked. "I think she's bloody terrifying, but she's not a top secret agent or anything."  
  
"Janine trusts the Major, and we don't even really know how high-up in the government she is. Sara's got to be loyal to us, or Janine probably would've killed her with her bare hands—"  
  
"I don't think she's actually capable of—"  
  
"Shush, Sam, you're ruining the fun with all your logic. Been pining after Chris again? Or have you just been hanging around him since you’re already that side of campus?"  
  
"I do not pine after Chris!" Sam said, but his face was bright red, and Jack laughed.   
  
"You do so. He has a wife and daughter though, so you're out of luck there."  
  
"I know that! I don't like him like that anyway, he's just...really, really cool. He's some sort of maths wizard, it's amazing. If he taught my engineering classes, I think I’d pass them for once."  
  
"Suuuure you don't fancy him," Jack said, rolling his eyes. "That's about as likely as Farrier's curtains matching the carpet."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Come on, Simon, back me up, she clearly dyes her hair red.”  
  
“She does,” Simon said solemnly, though he had only ever taken a single art history class and Farrier hadn’t taught it. “For what it’s worth, I think Sara might be an assassin. I mean, her terrifying fighting skills would come in handy there, and there’s a reason Jenny consults her on so many things. Besides, I’m pretty sure I heard a rumour that she’s a crack shot. I’ve never seen her use that gun, but I’d believe it.”  
  
“That’s definitely an option,” Jack conceded. “If you’re so sure she’s not MI5, Sam, what do you think she does?”  
  
“I dunno. Something more normal than you two think, though. Hell, maybe she has a husband and two kids. We know nothing about her! All we know is that she owns a gun, she nearly killed a man with martial arts alone, and she is suspiciously good at being a revolutionary. Or a terrorist? Are we terrorists?”  
  
“Nah, the terrorists are the bad guys,” Jack said. “We’re definitely revolutionaries.” Jack thought the way Sam’s shoulder’s had relaxed was uncalled for, because if he was taking Jack’s word as reassurance, he should probably be re-evaluating things. “I don’t think she has a husband and two kids though. You’ve seen how close she stands to Janine, right? A month ago she had a hickey she was trying to hide with a scarf, but come on, it was _May_. British weather’s crap, but it’s not that crap.”  
  
“That would explain the trust,” Sam said, though he looked undecided. “For someone who comes off so matter-of-fact, she’s the one we know least about.”  
  
“We don’t know anything about Jenny, either,” Simon pointed out. “We only know about Chris because we’ve seen him around campus, and Maxine told us why she joined.”  
  
“And Rajit followed us,” Sam added.  
  
“And Rajit, yeah.”  
  
As Simon finished speaking the door opened, and all three of them turned towards it in fear that Rajit had been magically summoned by the utterance of his name. Instead, Janine and Sara walked in. Jack smiled to himself as he noted how close they were.  
  
“Evening, Jenny!” Simon said.  
  
“Good evening, Mr. Lauchlan,” Janine replied, but she didn’t look at him. Jack decided that the fact that she ignored Simon’s blatant flirting counted as another win for his Sara-and-Janine theory. “It’ll just be a short meeting today. Dr. Myers hasn’t yet been successful in gathering information — she’s made contact with Dr. Cohen and will see her again tonight. I was hoping we would have something to discuss, but as it is, we only have routine checks. Any questions?”  
  
Jack decided that ‘are you getting down and dirty with Sara’ was not an appropriate question. At least, not if he wanted to live.

* * *

  
The disco’s DJ was exactly as bad as Paula said he would be. Maxine wasn’t sure whether Cheeseman was his last name or just some really, really unfortunate nickname, but he clearly hadn’t got the idea of DJ names at all. The disco itself was even worse than the middle school dances she’d attended as a child — it had the awkward dancing, the gender divide across the room and the Macarena far too many times, but it had added a lot of alcohol and taken away a lot of clothing.  
  
When she’d met Paula outside, Paula had given her a kiss on the lips, and it was only the fact that they were blocking the entrance way that stopped Maxine from pulling her into a proper kiss. As it was, as soon as they were clear of the doorway she leant down to kiss her exactly like she wanted to. By the time they parted, Maxine’s hair was mussed up and Paula was flushed.  
  
“Hey pretty lady, would you like a drink?”  
  
“I couldn’t possibly turn one down from such a gorgeous woman as yourself,” Paula replied, grinning. She had lipstick on her teeth and her makeup was a little smudged, but Maxine thought she was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.  
  
Shit, shit, no, she _wasn’t meant to get involved_. Shit.  
  
She hurried to the bar so she wouldn’t have to worry about that while facing Paula. Netrophil’s mission was important to her — she had been part of some suspicious genetics experiments before she’d sought them out and her own research was just the tip of the iceberg of what could be achieved. Netrophil’s mission was important to her, but now so was Paula.   
  
She would have killed for a long island iced tea, but she suspected Janine would not be pleased if her nightly email made no sense and was entirely typos. She got a gin and tonic for Paula and a vodka and cranberry for herself, resigning herself to being much more sober than she would like.

  
"I never asked," Paula said as she accepted her drink, putting an arm around Maxine’s waist, "what's a Yank doing in the UK?"  
  
Maxine took a sip of her drink before answering, trying to work out the best way to phrase it. "I came here because I needed to...to get out. Escape my past. I wasn't — well, I have a criminal record, let's just say that. Nothing really serious, but I needed to get away from everything I'd done, and my parents don't talk to me anyway. They were, if possible, more disappointed at having a dyke for a daughter than a delinquent. Baptists for you, I suppose. I really miss some things — half and half, for one, I don't know how you Brits drink coffee without it, and lots of the food — but I really like it here. It's much quieter than I'm used to and I got to have a clean slate."

“Not many people get to start over like that. I’ve not even done anything unsavoury and I don’t think I’d mind a clean slate.”  
  
“Nothing unsavoury at all? What would my first girlfriend say? She’d be horrified at my taste becoming so _boring_ ,” Maxine said, but the grin she couldn’t keep off her face completely destroyed the effect.  
  
“Oh God…now you say that, there is something I would like to erase from my hypothetical slate.” Paula covered her face in embarrassment, and Maxine pried her fingers away, kissing her forehead and encouraging her to continue. “I…at uni, I um mayhavedonearoleplayinafurbikini,” she said very quickly so Maxine couldn’t quite work out what she’d said. She got ‘fur bikini’ and ‘roleplay’ though, which was more than enough. She laughed and gave her a sloppy kiss on the forehead, still the only part of Paula’s face that wasn’t being covered by her hands.  
  
“That sounds like something that should definitely stay on your slate. On all slates. Perhaps even a repeat performance so I get to experience it as well.”  
  
“Nooooooo,” Paula said, but she was laughing as she protested. “I am very sure I no longer have that bikini, so that is not happening.”  
  
“If you say so,” Maxine said, heaving an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose the only solution to this problem is that we leave, because we’ve only been here, what, ten minutes? and I’ve already heard the Macarena. If the DJ’s bringing it out this early, it can only go downhill from here."  
  
“That sounds good to me,” Paula said, tipping the last of her drink back and setting it down. “From memory, what happens after this is a lot of people trying to make it ‘interesting’ in increasingly terrible ways. I am all for escaping before that begins.”  
  
Maxine took her hand and Paula led her up to the fifth floor, only stopping to kiss her in the stairwell once. Maxine knew she should make an excuse and stop this now — hell, she should have made an excuse yesterday and never let it get this far. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this genuinely happy, though — it reminded her of the beginning of her relationship with Lou, the clarity that came with realising that she wasn’t broken, just really, really gay. She had felt like she belonged then, and here, in a foreign country, she felt the same way when she was with Paula.  
  
There was a voice in the back of her head that said if she got close enough to Paula she would be able to learn even more than she could have by following the instructions and not wanting to kiss her. She ignored that voice, because it felt like using Paula and she couldn’t do that to the woman in front of her, bushy blonde hair and blue eyes and happiness in her face — the same happiness Maxine’s probably reflected. She wouldn’t use her.  
  
Paula hadn’t really given her any information so far anyway: only ‘VS-72’, the fact that she (and Van Ark?) were working directly for Pandora Haze, who were doing…Maxine couldn’t remember. She really had to stay sober when she was being a spy. Regardless, all that wasn’t huge information, so the fact that she’d already emailed it to Janine was alright, wasn’t it?  
  
When they reached Paula’s room, Maxine still hadn’t resolved the question, but the purpose in Paula’s movements as she guided Maxine towards the bed, kissing her soundly the entire time, made her forget. She forgot about Netrophil, about why she was at the conference, about the threat to humanity, about the possibility of the entire human race succumbing to mind-control. She forgot and lost herself in Paula, exploring the valley of her collarbones, kissing the base of her throat and discovering when Paula took off her dress that she did, indeed, have freckles in all sorts of places.  
  
Instead of being Dr. Myers, geneticist, part-time doctor and part-time revolutionary, she was Maxine. She was Maxine and she forgot the rest of her identity as she used her hands and her mouth to learn everything she could about Paula’s body. It was much more important than her brain.

* * *

  
When Maxine came into the Netrophil meeting she felt like a traitor. She sat at the back, the corner furthest away from where Janine would be standing when she addressed them. It wasn’t as if she had told Paula what was going on or anything — she had just not pushed her as much as she could have. Maxine didn’t pay attention to the first part of the meeting, but Janine said her name and she looked up, irrationally afraid for a moment that Janine knew everything. She had the feeling as Janine stared at her that she could see every place on her body that Paula had touched. Maxine knew that was ridiculous because there weren’t visible marks, but Janine kept staring until she repeated Maxine’s name.  
  
She hadn’t been staring at all, just waiting for Maxine to speak. Maxine flushed a little, saying, “Sorry, Janine, I’m exhausted from — from the trip up, I didn’t sleep very well last night. What did you say?”  
  
“Would you like to report back on the conference?” Janine repeated, eyeing her as if she really could find out all of Maxine’s secrets just by staring hard enough.  
  
“The conference went well,” Maxine said, her eyes dropping to the table instead of Janine’s face. “I found Dr. Cohen, you have all the information I was able to get out of her. She was reticent about the exact nature of her work, and there just wasn’t anything I could do to encourage her to share information.”  
  
“Did you get her drunk?” Simon asked from the other side of the room. Maxine didn’t need to look to know he had an expression that was half grin, half a sort of leer.  
  
Maxine felt her face heat up all over again and hoped it wasn’t too visible. “Dr. Cohen didn’t talk even when drunk, I promise you. I want this information just as much as you, but we’ll have to find a different way. Paula’s too loyal to—“  
  
“So you’re on first name terms, Maxine?” Simon again. Maxine rarely wanted to punch people in the face (well, she hadn’t wanted to punch people in the face often since that camp in Arizona), but if Simon kept interrupting like this…  
  
“I got to know her for three days, and she wasn’t one for formalities,” Maxine said. She couldn’t believe herself that it had only been three days, but she had Paula’s phone number, a silly photo as her contact picture, and a promise that Paula would come over for D&D — and other activities. “She’s a researcher at Pandora Haze, and she’s made some sort of breakthrough recently, one that’s made her anxious about it all. I still have no idea why the company produces a popular line of children’s toys as well as leading the field in burns treatment. Nothing about the company makes sense. She did say that Pandora Haze and the government were working closely together, though, so perhaps the toy line was always just a front for the medical side of the business.”  
  
Janine looked thoughtful, which was a nice change from trying to bore into Maxine’s soul. “They used the same branding on both sides of the operation, though, so they can’t be trying to hide something that way. Pandora Haze also makes storage devices — does it make any medical equipment apart from the burn patches?”  
  
“Not that I come into contact with regularly, but I think they might have had a hand in those Parkinson's helmets that appeared briefly on the market last year. I could find out.”  
  
“That would be good, Dr. Meyers,” Janine said, but as she was speaking Maxine’s phone started to buzz in her pocket, and a tinny voice started singing, _It’s poetry in motion, she turned her tender eyes to me_. Maxine hadn’t set the text tone herself, but she knew before she got the phone out that the text would be from Paula. (Later, she would fiddle with her phone settings to discover that Paula had set her ringtone to the far more incriminating verse _It’s poetry in motion, and now she’s making love to me_ , and thank any higher powers that _that_ hadn't gone off in the meeting.)  
  
“I’m sorry,” Maxine said, switching her phone to silent. “I didn’t realise I’d forgotten to turn it off.”  
  
“Was that her then, doc?” Jack raised his eyebrows until they disappeared underneath his fringe. From the way the skin around his eyes moved, she could tell he was _waggling_ them. Asshole.  
  
“Apparently she set her own ringtone,” Maxine said, as if that would excuse the fact that she had just been caught with a love song for a ringtone of a possible informant.  
  
Janine very pointedly said nothing, but Sara saved the day with an ever-practical suggestion. Maxine didn’t think she’d ever been so grateful to the Irish woman, given they hardly spoke. “If you have her phone number, and are clearly on good terms, you can continue trying to get information out of her. If it takes a little longer than we thought, then we can’t do anything about that. If you’re able to worm your way far enough into her life she might even uncover things we never dreamed of knowing, too. It’s worth pursuing.”  
  
Having her relationship with Paula reduced to those terms left a bitter taste in Maxine’s mouth, but she nodded anyway. “That’s a good idea,” she said, though she’d thought of it briefly the night before. “She’s based in Sheffield, so when I next get a chance at work I’ll see if there are any facilities in the database around there. Not for— not for blowing up, but for investigating. There are some places we’d rather leave intact, surely.”  
  
“Yeah, ones with your ladylove inside,” Simon said.  
  
“Do you have any purpose here other than stupid comments?” Maxine asked.  
  
“Of course I do!” Simon said, looking shocked and putting a hand to his chest. “I am the brawn of this group. Also the beauty. Jenny’s the brains, obviously.”  
  
“There’s nothing else to report,” Maxine said, rolling her eyes at Simon and hoping that closed the interrogation. She knew Janine was still looking at her, but she refused to meet her eyes.  
  
“Right then,” Janine said at last. “Dr. Myers, you will continue communicating with the possible source and recording any more pertinent information. Moving onto other matters, we’ve got hold of Professor Mullins’ secure voicemail inbox. Thank you for helping out there, Dr. McShell." She nodded her head at the bespectacled man sitting in front of Maxine. “There’s only one voicemail there, and I’ll play it for you so you can appreciate the severity of the situation.” She turned to a set of speakers behind her and after pressing several buttons, stood to the side so the male voice could be heard clearly throughout the room.  
  
 _“Hi Alicyn, it’s Jono — we tried that trick you suggested and it, it works better than we could have hoped —_ total _neural overload in the test subject — the thing is like a nuclear bomb in the brain — amazing…you’re a genius — either you’ll get a Nobel Prize for this or…we’ve just destroyed the human race. Get down here, we’ve opened the champagne and we’re looking at the results.”_  
  
The room was silent as there was a beep and an automated voice announced the end of the message. Maxine stole a look around the room to see that Sam’s face was positively ashen and even Simon and Jack were all out of jokes. Jack was biting his lip, and it was the first time, Maxine thought, she had ever seen Simon without a smile.  
  
“Janine,” Jack asked hesitantly, breaking the silence, “if this all does go pear-shaped and the worst happens, whatever that is, is there some sort of plan? Can we protect ourselves from it? I couldn’t — I don’t want to see my sister get a nuclear blast in the brain. Or Ma, or Dad.”  
  
Janine looked at him for a moment as if he were a schoolboy who had just asked a question the teacher had answered five minutes ago, but her expression shifted as she opened her mouth. “You weren’t here when we went over the procedure, were you? And that means you weren’t either, Mr. Lauchlan. Thank you for reminding me. The plan as it stands is quite vague because we don’t know what will happen or when or how. No matter what happens, though, or where the rest of us are, you’re to head to my father’s — _my_ bunker up north. It’s near Canton Castle, and I’ll bring directions with me to the next meeting. The bunker is fully equipped to shelter fifty, and I’ve kept it maintained. I never thought having a father who was paranoid about the Russians would be so useful, but as it is I owe him a lot. If we find out any more information about how this is going to happen, it will be shared via your emergency phones.”  
  
“And what about our families?” Jack asked. Maxine looked away, not because she didn’t have a family to bring (she didn’t, but she’d got over that long ago), but because Jack looked so painfully _young_ as he asked. She kept forgetting they were just idealistic university students. She’d seen Simon’s face after an attack, his eyes gleaming and a grin plastered to his face. She was fairly sure Jack spent more time discussing various people’s sex lives than he spent thinking about Netrophil and the reason it existed. They weren’t revolutionaries, just children. If Maxine had been the maternal sort she would have given Jack a hug, but as it was she just stared at the table she was seated at, tracing initials someone had carved into it.   
  
“You may bring any immediate loved ones you can locate,” Janine said. “We have to get onto discussing our next course of action, so is that it, Mr. Holden?”  
  
“Yes,” he said, but his face was paler than it had been ten minutes ago.  
  
“Alright. This voicemail makes it clear that Taversen University needs to be our next hit and we need to do it quickly before they can make much more progress. If we destroy the lab then we will have destroyed important experiments and records as well, though no doubt they will have it all remotely backed up. Until we find out more we’re just buying time, here, unfortunately. If we can also scare Mullins off from taking part in the project, that might be a real win.”  
  
” _Our_ university?” Sam said. “But the biology building’s next door to engineering!”  
  
“Do you intend to be studying at 11pm in the engineering building, Mr. Yao?"  
  
“No, I suppose not, but it’s…do we really have to attack…I suppose we do,” Sam said, looking down at his hands.   
  
“So, Jenny, are we just going to go in with crowbars and matches and smash it up?” Simon appeared to have found his voice, Maxine noted, and he sounded almost normal. Almost, but the edge of tension in his voice betrayed him.  
  
“It’s a much bigger facility than any of the others we’ve targeted so far,” Janine said, “and it has much better security. Keycard barriers, more security cameras, and much better fire safety so it’s not just a matter of dousing it in petrol and running like hell. McShell, have you got hold of the keycard I asked you to?”  
  
Chris produced a white keycard with an unflattering photo of a balding man. “Here.”   
  
“Woah, did you pickpocket him or something?” Sam said from Maxine’s right, in a tone Maxine would reserve for someone playing through an entire chapter of _Limbo_ without dying. His mouth hung open slightly, and Maxine looked away so he wouldn’t see her smile. He was the _least_ subtle.  
  
Chris shook his head, and Maxine thought she saw a blush creep up from his neck — but maybe it was just the light. “Graeme likes to drop in on the maths building and he always leaves his coat in my office when he comes by. As I understand, he’s fairly high-up in the department so that keycard should get you in just about anywhere. There’s a security guard, though, so you’ll have to take care of him somehow."  
  
“No worries, Chris, I can do that,” Simon said. “I’m a pretty persuasive bloke."  
  
Janine ignored him other than a small nod, which Maxine thought was wise. Simon didn’t need encouragement. Janine turned back to the rest of the group and said, “We’ll need help to cause the amount of destruction we want to. If there’s anyone you know would be willing to contribute to our cause just for one night, please tell them. They’re to wear black and bring their own crowbars — you may be surprised to learn I have a finite supply. The plan is to get into the building then split up into two groups. One group will go destroy files and hardware, and the other will go into the lab to destroy samples and equipment. Dr. Myers, we cannot risk you coming with us, but we need your expertise, so this second group will be wearing headsets and headcams so you can assist us remotely. You can do that, correct?”  
  
“Sure,” Maxine said. “I can certainly try.”  
  
“Good. Tell people we’ll be meeting in front of the biology building at Taversen at 11pm. I expect you all to be there, except for Dr. Myers and Dr. McShell. And Mr. Lauchlan, since it worked so well last time, bring the spray paint. We want Mullins to know who she should be afraid of.” 

* * *

The most important part of destroying a lab was getting inside without the cops getting called. The most important part of just about everything Simon enjoyed doing was not getting the cops called, really. He’d made it a fine art. It was he who had found the security guard willing to look the other way for something to grease his palm. The guy’s name was Roman, and Simon promised him that as well as the sizeable banknotes he handed over, he’d take him out for a drink some time. With that many tattoos, he looked like he had a few good stories in him.  
  
Simon felt like he was some sort of film as he led the way through the building. Chris had given them directions to Mullins’ lab as well, and Maxine relayed them over the headset. _“Okay, up the stairs, turn left…now right up ahead…and it’s the third door on the left.”_ Simon swiped the keycard and there was a soft click before he turned the handle and walked into the lobby of the lab. The volunteers kept going down the corridor with Janine to take to Mullins’ computers with their crowbars. Jack, Sara and Sam followed him into the lobby. There didn’t seem to be anything there they could destroy, so Simon continued on through the next door.  
  
Now _this_ was something Simon could destroy. There were shelves and shelves of glass ready for the smashing. Since they were all clean and empty, though, that wouldn’t do much good. _“There should be giant freezers along one of the walls,”_ Maxine said through his headset. _“Sam, Jack, you go open all the doors and take out the samples, and Simon and Sara need to find DNAse and RNAse. It’ll be in little clear squeeze bottles and labelled with “DNAse” or “RNAse”. Can you see any? No, Simon, they won’t be in there. Simon, there’s no need to keep rummaging around in there, step away from the reagents cupboard. There’s dangerous materials in there. Hell, there are things in this lab that explode when exposed to moist air, so how about you just…don’t breathe on the wrong thing.”_  
  
“Relax, Maxine,” Simon said, though he shut the door of the reagents cupboard. “I’m invincible. Nothing could harm the great Lauchlan.”  
  
 _“Lithium aluminum hydride could,”_ Maxine said.   
  
Sara found the DNAse and RNAse, which gave Simon no more cause to rummage in potentially explosive cupboards. Under Maxine’s direction, she took them to the collection of samples that were slowly melting on a bench.  
  
“ _This is used to clear unwanted foreign DNA from workspaces, so you can imagine what it does when you pour it on samples,”_ Maxine said. Simon was sure he would forget that information the second he walked out of the lab, but he appreciated that it was so _efficient_. Unfortunately, it also took a lot of the fun out of it. _“The RNA is even easier to destroy — RNA is so fragile that if you look, they’re actually in a compound called RNAlater that preserves it._ ”  
  
“RNAlater?” Simon repeated. “You actually call it that?”  
  
 _“Sometimes us scientists have a sense of humour too.”_  
  
So far there had been no use for his metal baseball bat. Usually by this point in an attack he’d been able to get a satisfying _crunch_ out of something or at least set something on fire. He hopped from foot to foot, antsy and eager to properly destroy things. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be what Maxine had in mind.  
  
 _“Those were the working samples from the -20 freezer, but we need to destroy the originals in the -80 freezer as well — I think it was out in the lobby. It’d be quickest to just put them in a biohazard bag and throw them into the autoclave.”_ It was still far too controlled for Simon’s taste, but they did what Maxine told them and Simon smashed some of the glassware just for fun. There wasn’t much equipment to destroy, when he looked around — it was all heavy equipment or cupboards, and while he was sure most of the equipment could be taken out of action by fiddling with it, that wasn’t what he wanted to do.  
  
Once they’d destroyed the samples, they met back up with Janine and the volunteers, who had had _much_ more fun than Simon. Computer monitors had been smashed, harddrives melted with lighters, and torn paper littered the floor. “You didn’t leave any for me,” Simon said to Janine, pouting in a way that was only partly a joke.  
  
“You were doing the much more important part of the operation,” Janine said. “Besides, you’ll get to see destruction — everyone, we need to get out quickly. Sara, you have the bomb?” No one had told Simon there was a bomb involved, but Sara nodded and left the room, as did the volunteers. They were all breathing heavily and Simon could see some of them grinning.  
  
“I did smash a few pipettes,” Simon confessed as they brought up the rear, checking no one was left in the building. “But Maxine destroyed the DNA samples in efficient, sciencey ways. I prefer arson.”  
  
“I know you do,” Janine said.  
  
Simon admitted afterwards that the explosion was _spectacular_.  


* * *

  
Sam had never been happier that he had convinced his parents to let him stay on campus after first year. He hadn’t been able to escape his family — while all his friends had gone to the other end of the country for uni, it turned out the best engineering university was less than an hour from home — but at least he could avoid them for twenty-four weeks of the year. He had bombed his engineering exams (again) but he didn’t have to go home and face the guilt until the assessment period was over and he was forced to leave. That gave him a week and a half of denial.  
  
Participating in what the Daily Mail (and admittedly everyone else, even the Guardian) was calling ‘terrorist activity’ was not how he expected to spend that week and a half, but it turned out to be a good distraction. Sam wasn’t very good in a crisis — he got flustered and forgot everything he knew, even though Janine never sent them into a situation unprepared. The attack they’d done the night before was different to the others. It was controlled, sensible. Where at Bolker they had been wild-eyed and swinging their weapons and lighting fires, at Taversen it had just been squeezing liquid onto samples until they went brown. It didn’t even feel like terrorism, though the papers were calling it the worst act of terrorism Netrophil had committed. Sure, there was the bomb, but it had been fairly small and hadn’t even done too much damage to the lab itself, only the room with the computers. Taversen hadn’t felt like terrorism. It felt more like the revolutionary fight Janine spoke of.  
  
They had planned a meeting for the next day to debrief and Sam, as per tradition, arrived fifteen minutes early so he could eat his kebab and chat to Jack and Simon, whom he really didn’t see enough of considering they were both on the other side of campus. Was Simon on campus at all? Sam couldn’t recall Simon ever mentioning any specific classes. Hell, he didn’t even know what degree he was doing. He made a mental note to ask him about it, but he could already hear conversation through the door.  
  
“...such a dork, I mean, who even asks a stranger what their ideal Disney heist team is? And who the bloody hell thinks that _Lady Cluck_ is a good addition to a group of expert criminals? And then I fucked it up! Apart from his questionable taste in Disney heist teams, he’s so—“ Jack broke off as Sam opened the door. He’d listened outside just until he’d got to the end of the Disney heist team story. That was definitely not something that should be interrupted.  
  
“Evening,” Sam said, waving his kebab.  
  
“Hey, Sam, sorry, thought you were Janine for a second there. She’d kill me if she found out — I…okay, so, after you went home, there was this guy at the bar — and…well, I accidentally told him about Bolker, and about the voicemail, and some of Janine’s theories — he just kept asking questions and I suppose I thought that if I refused to answer his questions he’d go talk to someone else and I wouldn’t get to make out with him, and it turns out he’s a fucking _journo_ and…and you can’t tell Janine any of that, right?”  
  
“Of course. Did you tell him anything really important? What paper does he work for?” If they wanted to keep this secret from Janine they’d have to find a way to cover it up by themselves. “Do you think you can possibly convince him to stay quiet?”  
  
“He works for a Canadian food mag,” Jack admitted, and Simon laughed, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. Sam was just relieved. Here he’d been thinking they’d have to work something impossible with the Guardian, but Jack, to his credit, had picked the most harmless journo in the country to accidentally spill the beans to. It almost felt like it took _skill_ to fuck up in the way he did.  
  
“Is he likely to give the story to someone else? Sell it, maybe?”  
  
“I don’t… I don’t think so. He does keep texting me though. Says we should talk, wants to know more about Pandora Haze… This is really, really, not good. I mean, what if he decides to dob me in? He has my phone number and my last—“ The sound of Janine’s voice, the words indistinguishable from behind the door, made him stop and turn. He looked like he’d just been caught by a teacher hiding behind the toilet block with a fag, but Janine was engrossed in conversation with Sara and Maxine, so Sam was fairly sure she hadn’t noticed. Only fairly, because he was pretty sure Janine was capable of just about anything, even noticing Jack’s total lack of a poker face without looking at him.  
  
“Have you seen Mullins’ resignation from her post?” she asked, not even needing to call order. All three students shook their heads, and Sam saw Sara roll her eyes at them. “I was first alerted to it when I sent her another death threat email, and got an auto-reply saying she had gone into hiding and abandoned that email. The university press release this afternoon confirms it.” Janine smiled, but it wasn’t an expression Sam associated with happiness, only grim satisfaction.  
  
“Well, that’s great,” Jack said. “If she’s in hiding, we’ve basically done our job, right? We’ve destroyed all her research and she can’t do any more, presumably, unless she made some deal to use a university lab in the dead of night.”  
  
“If we could get the Major to keep tabs on certain controlled substances then we might be able to find out where she is, if she’s continuing to do experiments,” Maxine said. “If she’s using lab supplies on the down low, then they won’t really be able to hide that.”  
  
“We certainly haven’t succeeded completely, Mr. Holden. Even without Mullins, the research will still continue — Mullins will have her researched backed up in remote locations and everything we’ve destroyed can be made again. Besides, as you noted, she’s perfectly able to continue working. We destroyed her lab, but we didn’t destroy _her_.”  
  
“Janine,” Sam said, “I know we’ve been sending her death threats and all that, but we wouldn’t actually kill her, right?” Killing people was what the bad guys did, and they weren’t the bad guys, right? They were revolutionaries, not terrorists.   
  
Janine just stared at him and Sam wished he’d never asked. Without saying a word, Janine made it perfectly clear what her answer to that question would be. He wanted to melt right into the floor just to get her to stop looking at him like that, and then drown himself in really bad British tequila so he could forget this entire meeting. He was fairly sure he could get a bottle of Pepe’s on the way back to his room, and he planned to do so as soon as possible.  
  
“Sometimes you must do what is necessary, Mr. Yao,” Janine said. Sam was sure his face was so red it might melt off. Thankfully, she continued to talk about Mullins and what they should do next — she would contact the Major, and the rest of them should focus on spreading the word, getting cell recruitment up. Now it was about strength of numbers and convincing the public, because ultimately as an outside revolutionary group they could only do so much.  
  
When Sam left, he was never gladder for the disgusting taste of Pepe’s Finest British Tequila in his life. The free union jack sombrero he got as a promotional deal wasn’t bad either.  


* * *

  
  
 _Maxine, please don’t go near anyone coughing. Or biting people. Just stay home, actually. Please stay safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you._  
  
Maxine stared at her phone, looked at the people in the park around her, and then back at the phone. It didn’t get any clearer no matter how many times she read it. She’d replied immediately — _What do you mean? Are you saying there’s a rabies outbreak?_ — but she hadn’t got a response. She pocketed her phone, rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, and walked into The Gryphon Arms for the Netrophil meeting. It felt heavy in her pocket, but Maxine knew that was mostly guilt — she’d got the entry code to the facility where Paula was working two days ago. Paula had offered it freely for what she had called ‘late night distractions from bloody sequencing’. Maxine had been all too happy to oblige. Now, though, she was going to hand over that code to Janine so they could do God knows what with it, and Maxine just felt ill.  
  
Chris said hello to her as she entered the room, moving next to her when she took a seat on the opposite side of the room. She’d seen him endanger lives — the lives of _innocent people_ , if the uni student contingent of Netrophil could be termed innocent — during attacks in order to get data, and the frostiness she’d showed him ever since hadn’t, apparently, had any effect. She nodded at him in acknowledgement and got out her phone again, partly as a classic technique for having an excuse not to talk to him, and partly so she could stare at that text again. Why wouldn’t Paula reply? What did she mean? Maxine didn’t make a habit of gravitating towards sick people when she was outside the clinic, especially not ones that were coughing violently. If there was a rabies outbreak, why hadn’t Paula just said so? Before she could agonise over it any longer, Janine started the meeting, and she put the phone away.  
  
“I’ve received reports from the Major that there have been movements in the secret bases up in Scotland — the Major has gone north to find out more. This could be the indication of something imminent, perhaps even the attack we are expecting. We’ll know more when the Major returns, but for now, be on your guard. She also gave me dozens of classified files, though they do not seem to make sense with the limited information we currently have. Most of them are about a ‘Project Greenshoot’. There is no helpful context to this, though we do know there is a significant budget assigned to it and it comes under the military. We also know there are planes involved, though exactly _how_ is a mystery. Some of the papers indicate there is some sort of relevance to the NHS, of all things — Dr. Myers, can you see if you can discover anything?”  
  
“Yes,” Maxine said, but she was caught up on the information about the Scottish bases. The start of something?  
  
“Does anyone have anything to report back?”  
  
The room was silent for a moment. Maxine hoped someone else did and they could go first, if only so she could pretend to herself that she hadn’t completely betrayed Paula for a few minutes longer. (She had betrayed Paula since she found her at the hotel meet-and-greet. But she tried not to think about that.) When it became clear that no one had anything to say, Maxine spoke. “I’ve got the code to Paula’s building. It’s on Tessandori St, Sheffield, and I don’t know exactly what they’re doing except that they’re doing human trials at the moment. I didn’t have the opportunity to find out any important information last time I was there.” She didn’t really want to make any promises about getting information next time she responded to a booty call. It felt much worse than anything she’d done to Paula so far, but she couldn’t work out why.  
  
Simon made a comment on the exact nature of her business at Tessandori and Maxine was blessedly spared from the second half when her phone beeped. She saw it was a breaking news notification and would have put it away, but —   
  
“Janine, I think something’s happening already.”  
  
 _BREAKING NEWS: What appears to be a new rabies strain has been discovered in London, as a man in his late thirties was taken to hospital with severe respiratory difficulties, appeared to die at the scene, but woke up soon after and attacked morgue technicians.  
  
The aggressiveness of the man and the pattern of biting — also observed in the people he attacked soon afterwards — suggests rabies, though doctors have been unable to study it at present.  
  
People are advised to not approach anyone who displays signs of rabies and to stay indoors to lower the risk of infection.  
  
Follow @BBCNews for updates as the situation progresses._

**Author's Note:**

> The greatest mystery in this fic is what, exactly, Sara Smith does for a living. I don't know. You don't know. Sara Smith is the only one who knows, which is a shame, because she's fictional.
> 
> The voicemail message is just a straight copy/paste from a transcription someone found on the internet and therefore is a quote from Six to Start. I definitely did not make that voicemail up.
> 
> ...And yes, that fake twitter account is still updating (as of the posting, anyway).


End file.
